


The Child Awakes

by Oldine



Series: Birches Grow [5]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-26 11:19:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9893576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oldine/pseuds/Oldine
Summary: Jack and Ianto head to northern Wales to investigate a witch-related murder. A darker, Lewella-related story following Samhain. More on Jack and Ianto's relationship. And Kitty Russell, the teleporting kitten.





	

**Saturday, November 23, 2019**

Ianto Jones woke with a start. He looked around and didn't see a problem. Kitty Russell had curled up on Jack's pillow during the night. It took a moment to remember Jack was in Ireland helping Mara Tierney with something.

Coffee, feed the cat, take a shower. He mentally went over his list. With coffee brewing, and the cat eating, he headed for the bathroom. The next list was already forming. Send Jack another message about their tuxedo fittings for a Christmas party in London. The building's Christmas decorations were in one of the first floor flats waiting to be unpacked. He needed to stop by a hardware store at some point. Rhys wanted bookshelves he said he'd install. Luc gave him a list for his lab.

He leaned into the shower, with his head down, the mental noise threatening to overwhelm him. He'd assured Jack repeatedly he could handle being alone. Anwen even volunteered to sleep on the sofa. Gwen knocked on the door about ten last night with an excuse to check on him.

“Who are you?” It wasn't the first time he'd heard Lewella's voice since Halloween. He wasn't sure if she was actively connected to him or if hallucinations were the latest stage in his trial by fire.

The bathroom felt different as he stepped out of the shower and reached for a towel. A familiar fog rolled across the floor. When he looked at the mirror, words appeared in the steam. “The child awakes.”

Great, he woke in a horror film for teenagers. He used the towel to clear the steam on the mirror. He needed to shave.

Russell meowed from the doorway of Jack's office. It sounded disapproving.

“You're losing it,” Ianto told his reflection.

 

The hardware store was busy. Mostly older men. A woman in her early twenties was reluctantly getting advice from a man old enough to be her father on choosing tools. From the look on her face, she wanted to hit him with the pink-handled hammer he suggested. Two teenage boys followed behind an elderly woman. A man on his mobile was talking to his unhappy wife. Nothing unexpected.

Except something felt off. The feeling intensified as he stood by a shelf display. He tried to ignore it, but the hairs were standing up on the back of his neck. When the adrenaline kicked in, it felt like a Weevil hunt. Reluctantly, he acknowledged he had to call Gwen. It wasn't a conversation he wanted to have. As he removed his mobile from his pocket, a feather caught his attention as it landed on one of the shelves. The anxiety really flared. If that was an owl feather, the problem was real.

“I was told I could find something to hang wreaths on over here.” Something about the man's tone made him wonder.

“I don't know.”

“Sorry to bother you, man.”

“No problem.”

Real or not, he needed to call Gwen. The familiar sound of a chambered round stopped him mid-dial.

“Put the mobile down.” The man who had asked about a wreath was holding a gun to his head.

Ianto set it next to the feather on the shelf display and held his arms out. “What do you want?”

“Information.”

Ianto waited.

“How do I find the witch?”

Ianto switched to Welsh. “Lewella, I need help.”

“What?” the man demanded.

“Ask for her help in Welsh.”

“She'll incarnate on command?” The man suddenly sounded nervous.

Ianto had no idea what she would do. Not until the fog was rolling over his feet toward the gunman. Then white feathers started falling. A barn owl screeched. When the rumbling started, he wondered if he'd made a mistake. The man screamed as the wind rushed passed. He could only guess a vortex similar to what destroyed the mausoleum took the man.

His mobile rang playing the theme music Anwen programmed for her mother.

“Hey.”

“Are you okay?” Gwen sounded worried.

“I need you to meet me at the hardware store. I don't know how to explain it.” He gave her the address. “Why did you call?”

“Your cat is sitting on my kitchen counter.”

 

**Monday, November 24, 2019**

Jack Harkness returned home as soon as possible. The Ireland situation turned out to be two dumb, petty thieves with an alien device that didn't work they way they thought it did. One was dead and the other was hospitalized.

He grabbed a note Anwen taped to the door as he let himself into the flat. “Russell teleports. No Rift or chonon energy.” He read it twice before remembering what Gwen said about finding the cat in their flat. Even if Ianto let Russell out, which he was careful not to do, the kitten would have been unable to get downstairs or into another flat.

The kitchen light had been left on over half a pot of coffee. He figured dinner waited in the refrigerator. Jack smiled. It was good to be home.

Ianto stepped into the bedroom doorway wearing pajama bottoms. “Morning.”

Jack set his luggage next to the table, and removed his coat. “Did you sleep?”

“No.” He rubbed his eyes.

Jack held up the note. “Anwen says we have a teleporting cat.”

Ianto shook his head as he walked toward the kitchen. “Did you eat?”

“Yeah.” Jack reached out and took his hand. “How are you?”

“I don't know.”

Jack hugged him. They'd talked briefly after what happened in the hardware store. While Gwen assessed the situation, he'd finished shopping. From what happened on Halloween, he suspected interacting with Lewella calmed him. Ianto still sounded calm.

 

An hour later, Jack sat on the bed with his back to the headboard and one of the laptops. Ianto had curled up next to him and fallen asleep.

When he'd spoken to Gwen, she'd checked CCTV footage and asked if anyone had witnessed anything. One person thought he saw a man with a gun, but seemed oddly unaffected. The camera nearest Ianto malfunctioned. They had a clear picture for facial recognition. And a feather that seemingly came from nowhere.

Shane Boone was a mechanic from Manchester. He had family ties to Wales. Ianto found a list of burials from the cemetery Lewella appeared. Boone was distantly related to one of the women interred through his mother. No one in the immediate Boone family had criminal records. His grandmother had been cited for trespassing.

Nothing explained Boone's knowledge of or interest in Lewella. The family had no Torchwood files. There was no Rift activity at the time of the hardware store situation, and no unusual reports locally.

A constable in northern Wales had a weird, witch-related situation. At first glance, it looked like a religious bigot was killed and people were being superstitious. The investigation notes brought him to a different conclusion. It was a Torchwood situation. He sent a quick message. They would need to drive north.

 

Ianto Jones sat next to Jack at the small table next to the kitchen. “Are you leaving again?”

“We are.” Jack looked up from the laptop. “DC Roberts in northern Wales has an unusual murder.”

“You're taking me on a three hour drive to sit in the car?” Ianto wondered what he was missing.

Jack set a hand on his leg. “A man was killed two hours before the hardware store. Some locals believe he was killed by a witch.”

Which reminded Ianto of what happened before he left for the store. He explained about the message on the mirror.

“A child awakes?” Jack asked.

“I know. It’s ridiculous.”

“Lewella avoided scaring you.” Jack paused. “Do you know what it means?”

Ianto shook his head. “No.”

“Did your research find anything?”

“More questions. The cemetery was entrusted to a church that stopped maintaining it. When Cory asked to use the cemetery, and offered to pay for clean up, a church bookkeeper made the arrangements. The bookkeeper was suspending pending a vote of some kind. When I explained I was researching family members buried in the cemetery, the woman reacted strangely. She insisted it wasn't possible. Then she called me back a few hours later to apologize. It wouldn't happen again.”

“They know something.”

Ianto sipped his coffee. “The local library was strange too. The librarian insisted she would not research a witch-burning. When I explained I was interested in the cemetery because of genealogy, she said I was a liar and ended the call.”

 

Jack Harkness drove Ianto's car for the trip north. He preferred to have the van, but Gwen and Luc might need it if they had a situation closer to home. He kept a hand on Ianto's leg and tried not to think about his connection to the witch. Everything had a price. The cost of Ianto's return wasn't clear yet.

The trip to Ireland would have been a success, if not for the hardware store. Ianto's anxiety hadn't flared although he had insisted on packing. Not one comment about Mara or the trip. It was progress.

“DC Roberts sent a notification.” Ianto read it. “They found a child wandering. She appears to speak fluent Welsh and no English.”

Jack didn't like the sound of that. “'The child awakes.'”

“Yeah.”

“Check the area's history,” Jack said. “Witches, owls, strange stories.”

“What do you consider strange?”

 

Ianto Jones reviewed information on the general Internet and from various libraries from his tablet. A lot of myths and legends from northern Wales involved King Arthur. Lewella's oak tree could be compared to an oak associated with Merlin. A tree appearing on Samhain connected to a story involving a yew tree and future knowledge. Nothing he didn't already know.

“Both owls and cats are associated with the Underworld or Otherworld. Mysteries, secrets and knowledge.” Ianto wasn't sure what to think about the stories associating cats with evil. “Information on cats is worrisome.”

Jack gently squeezed his leg. “Cats are associated with witchcraft. People fear and hate what they don't understand.”

“Russell could be a guardian of some kind. When I needed help, he appeared on Gwen's counter. The owls could be some type of messenger. The owl feather warned me. The oak tree is a door.” Ianto shook his head. “This sounds crazy.”

“Crazier than offering dark chocolate to a pterodactyl?”

The chocolate was not the part of that night he remembered the clearest. “Or dating a time traveler.” Ianto set his hand on Jack's.

Ianto stepped from the car and knew something was angry. The painful emotion permeated the area. People eyed them or stared. Windows parted across streets. A car slowed as it passed. The anxiety swelled.

A light gray feline with dark gray eyes jumped on the bonnet next to him. Without thinking about it, he petted the cat. The calming effect was immediate and obvious.

“Jack,” he said quietly, “There is something wrong here.”

“Yeah.” Jack unbuttoned his coat as if reaching for his Webly.

Ianto followed Jack into the police station and almost missed the cat following beside him. The odd trio made him wonder. An elderly man held a black bag and was probably a doctor. A woman in her early to mid forties looked like a social worker. A younger man wore a nice suit and was probably a minister or an undertaker. They looked uncomfortable.

“Captain Harkness,” a uniformed police office said, striding into the main room, “DC Roberts.” He extended his hand.

Jack shook it. “Did something else happen?”

Roberts motioned the way he came, and then led down a short hallway. An office door stood open with his name on a small plaque. He stopped passed the door. He only then seemed to notice the cat.

“The girl, she's eight or maybe nine. The language she speaks is old.” Roberts sighed. “Reverend Jenkins said the room door closed in his face by itself. The social worker, Mrs. Driscoll, swears the girl knocked her over from across the room. Dr. Pierce said she told him one of his secrets.”

“Has she spoken to anyone else?” Ianto asked.

“She talks to me.” Roberts massaged his temples. “I haven't spoken Welsh since my grandmother died twenty years ago.”

“I can try.”

“Jack.” Ianto appreciated the concern. “She will talk to me.”

“We don't know what Lewella's message meant.”

The cat started walking.

“She kept me from being shot yesterday.”

“Do I want to ask?”

“No.” They replied in unison.

“The girl is down the hall.” Roberts started walking.

Ianto took Jack's hand. “I can't hide forever.”

Jack squeezed his hand. “Be careful.”

 

Ianto entered the room and claimed a seat by the door. The girl sat at a small table with a box of crayons. She had long black hair, a pale complexion and wore a dark-colored dress. The gray cat hopped on the table effortlessly and sat looking at him.

She looked up. “It is time.” Her accent was unusual.

“For what?” he replied in Welsh.

“Secrets have been buried too long.”

He wondered if she meant that literally. “What are you drawing?”

She set her crayon down and handed him the piece of printer paper.

“Thank you.”

The girl reached out and petted the cat. “You did not cause this. Asking Lewella for help did not bring me here. The evil has nothing to do with you.”

“Why are you here?”

“To right a wrong.” She started drawing again. “A few wrongs.”

Ianto stood.

“Before you walked in the land of the dead, you and yours dealt with ancient creatures that affected the elements. Magical and horrific.” She paused. “The fairies,” a name she found amusing, “Are not the only ancients of this world.”

Ianto stepped into the doorway with a crayon picture of a man's face.

Roberts swore under his breath. “What did she say?”

 

Jack Harkness followed DC Roberts down the hall to his office.

“I need an explanation, Captain.”

Jack sat across the desk from him. “The girl is probably not human.”

“What?”

“She mentioned Lewella. The insistence on Welsh. The cat.” Jack paused. “The witchcraft-related death brought us here. Lewella is a witch. A very old, very powerful witch.” Even after the aliens over London, the 456 and Miracle Day, people still had a difficult time with aliens. Roberts was less likely to understand other beings on Earth.

“That's ridiculous.”

Jack knew it was pointless to argue. Police officers were generally people who needed evidence and proof. He remembered Gwen in the beginning. She'd seen aliens and alien technology and still had trouble with the so-called fairies that killed Estelle. “I would like to ask Dr. Pierce what secret he knew.”

Roberts relented. He walked out to the front and returned with the elderly man carrying a black bag. Pierce eyed him before sitting in a chair next to him. Introductions didn't help the doctor's obvious nerves.

“What did the girl tell you?”

Pierce closed his eyes. “Something that happened a long time ago.”

“Its important, doctor,” Jack insisted.

After a few minutes, the elderly man spoke. The pain was evident. “When I was the girl's age, my family lived next to Silas Jenkins, he was related to Reverend Jenkins.” Pierce hesitated. “My chores were done. I would wander my family's land and the Jenkins’.” He paused. “I was chasing a rabbit behind the house when I heard a noise. Even at that age.” He shook his head. “Silas Jenkins had a woman bound at the wrist and tethered to a tree. She was beaten, bloody and whimpering.” Tears started rolling down his wrinkled cheeks. “There was nothing I could do. He beat her to death. I ran home and told my father.” Pierce opened his eyes and turned to Jack, his expression haunted. “He said that it wasn't our business.”

“Do you know who she was?”

“No.”

 

Tuesday, November 25, 2019

Research, took time. It was dark before they have enough information that Roberts felt comfortable approaching Reverend Jenkins. The dead man was his cousin. While Thad Jenkins had been murdered, and they had probable cause to search his property, searching for unrelated remains was different. Thad's wife died years before and he had no kids. The Reverend Jenkins was his nearest relative.

Although convinced none of his family members committed a crime, he agreed. By mid-morning, Jack and Ianto joined the search party. The child insisted on staying with Ianto. With the growing uneasiness among the locals, he refused to leave Ianto at the station. Mrs. Driscoll accompanied the child. Roberts recruited volunteers with military backgrounds and led the odd search team to the Jenkins property. November was not ideal. They would have to wait for spring to search for interred remains.

“She shouldn’t be here,” Mrs. Driscoll objected again. She was sitting in the front seat of Driscoll's official vehicle with the window cracked. Ianto and the child were in the backseat.

Jack Harkness had explained repeatedly. He hadn't pointed out the girl wasn't human. The social worker wouldn't have believed him anymore than Roberts. “She drew a picture of Thad Jenkins. She was found wandering near here.”

“She's traumatized.” How quickly the woman rationalized her experience before they arrived.

“The answer to what happened is here.” He motioned at the girl who stood next to Ianto holding his hand. “She's safe.”

“Your boyfriend, Captain, is not an appropriate carer.”

“Ianto has a lot of experience sitting with our co-worker's two children. Their mother has no complaint.”

Mrs. Driscoll was not convinced. She'd outright demanded a couple hours ago if they were bent. Her following comments were worse. What bothered him wasn't the insulted or the ignorance.

Jack look at Ianto, catching his eyes over the social worker's head. “Are you good?”

“Yep.”

The concern was ridiculous, he told himself walking toward Roberts. A rude social worker was nothing compared to what Ianto had handled in the past four months.

 

Ianto Jones tried showing the girl how to play a game on his tablet. Anwen picked it up easily. She had no clue. He gave up and found a collection of cat pictures she could flip through by tapping the screen. That worked better.

“Are you going to tell me your name?” Ianto asked in Welsh.

“I do not have one.” She held up one of the pictures. “That is a cat? It has no fur.”

Ianto chuckled.

Mrs. Driscoll turned around in her seat to eye them. “What is she doing?

The girl turned the tablet to show the social worker. “Cath.”

“That means cat.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Yeah.”

“Hopeless.” The girl turned the tablet around again and tapped for the next picture.

A thought occurred to Ianto. The girl understood what was going on around her.

“Do you speak English?” Ianto asked.

“No. I do not speak.” The child laughed.

“I don't understand.”

“I am not a child. I do not have a name. I do not speak.” She tilted the tablet. “I am an omen of death.”

Ianto tapped his ear comm.

 

Jack Harkness approached DC Roberts. He was using the bonnet of a volunteer's car to organize a search. The property had a house and a few dilapidated structures. There were other unused structures nearby on adjacent properties. Dr. Pierce gave approval immediately. Two other families asked questions, but agreed.

“What are you expecting to find?” Roberts sounded shaken.

“Bodies.” Jack suspected there was more than one offender in the Jenkins family.

“We have infrared. It's good for finding sheep and lost tourists.” He hesitated. “There are no animals in the immediate area. The only heat signatures are stones.”

“What?”

“The snow is melting.”

“Get your men away from those areas.” Jack had wondered about a body search in November. If Lewella could implode a mausoleum, she could arguably affect graves. Until she attacked Shane Boone yesterday, he thought her power was based on the veil thinning on Samhain.

“Already did. What's happening?”

“I don't know.”

His ear comm made an odd sound as the first grave exploded.

 

Another explosion shook the car.

“People will get hurt.” Ianto Jones switched to English.

“Don't yell at her.”

“Tell him what happened to your brother.” The child glared at her. “He will yell at you instead.”

“You need to stop this.” Another grave exploded as he spoke.

“Where would you get a cat like this?” The child showed him a picture of a large, fluffy white one.

“London.” The absurdity wasn't lost on him. “What is exploding?”

“Witches graves. The Jenkins family killed witches for generations.” She seemed to think about something. “The latest victim is in the house. She has not crossed over yet.”

Ianto grabbed the handle. The door wouldn't open. “Let me out.”

“No.”

“Let me save her.”

She waved her hand and instead of the door releasing, he heard the comm activate.

“Jack, there is a survivor in the house.”

“Are you safe?” Jack sounded relieved.

“Yes.”

“Where in the house?”

“Under the main bedroom.” The child said without being asked.

Ianto repeated.

“Stay where you are.”

“See,” the child said. “Read this to me.” She handed him a page describing a Persian.”

 

Jack Harkness ran for the house. A large owl perched on the roof as he forced the door. It screeched and flew away. The house shook. Fog rolled across the floor as he found the main bedroom. Unable to see the boards, he started checking for open areas by stomping.

He found one near the bed. He pushed it over and checked the floor by hand. The trapped door would have been hidden by the bed. He opened the panel and the fog rolled into the opening.

The woman looked up at him terrified. He reached reached over the edge and grabbed her by the shirt. There was no time to untie her. He stood, lifted her and ran for the door.

The vortex was already starting. The wind howled and the fog rushed passed him. The rumbling started before he reached the door way. He was barely through before the vortex knocked him to the ground. He held her as it imploded, absorbing the house like the mausoleum on Halloween.

One of the volunteers ran over with a blanket. The man stared at what had been the house. Jack helped the woman up before looking. A hawthorn tree was sprouting much like the oak in the cemetery. The smell of decaying flesh filled the air. Cut hawthorn branches smelled like decomposition.

Jack turned back to the woman and helped the volunteer untie her. Without shoes, she couldn't walk. They wrapped her in the blanket and the man carried her toward the cars.

 

Ianto Jones walked over to Jack, and the new tree. The child trailed behind him.

“Hawthorn.” He'd seen the trees before, but never one that size nor blooming in November.

The girl stopped next to him and took his hand. “Lewella opened a door to many things this world forgot. She reached out to you. Not many have walked among the living, the dead and have ancestral ties to magic.”

“Why?”

“People will not do right without being shown there are consequences for wrong.” She squeezed his hand. “Lewella gave you the mark of a cat. I will add a better one.”

Before he could ask what she meant, he felt a brush of feathers against his hand. The child turned into an owl and flew toward the tree, screeching as she went.

Another explosion sent Ianto stumbling into Jack. Jack wrapped an arm around him.

Ianto leaned against him. “I want to go home.”

Jack kissed the top of his head. “Gwen asked if we'd watch the kids next weekend. Anwen wants to shop for presents at the Christmas Market.”

“I need to go back to the hardware store. I forgot something.”

**Author's Note:**

> No one is perfect. People make assumptions about experiences. Lewella is not a witch. As with anything Torchwood, Ianto will learn the truth one way or another.


End file.
